The prospect of relief is what drives me to the meditation cushion over and over, more than any other motivation. I’m not looking for God; I’m not trying to be a better person. I’d welcome both of those side effects—but really, I’d just like to stop whirring.

As introverts, we know that the practices of solitude, self-discovery, and paying attention are part of our daily lives, and when we pursue them with the intention of connecting with the transcendent, they can become spiritual practices as well.

It’s not that the spiritual nourishment offered by my youth group and my childhood church wasn’t authentic. It’s just the way in which I participated in it as an introvert wasn’t authentic to me. What was missing all those years was an invitation to the interior journey.

You should ask your mind to sit still, much like you would ask a puppy to sit—with calmness, firmness, and gentleness. You don’t scold the puppy for being restless and getting up off her haunches a second after she has sat down.